


Trade Winds

by lillypillylies



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillypillylies/pseuds/lillypillylies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Involving fishing and phonecalls, pirates and pre-nups - what comes after sailing off into the sunset with the man you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trade Winds

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set after the series finale. I first intended to have Nate and Sophie setting off from Portland, but apparently the north-west coast is a notoriously challenging region even for experienced sailors. Not quite the leisurely, romantic voyage down to Mexico I had in mind. So my headcanon here is that Nate planned ahead, as he does, and had his yacht transported down to a more convenient location further south and they started the trip from there. (Yes, I did way too much research on sailing for a fic that doesn't actually involve any sailing at all. Unless 'canoodling while on an anchored boat' counts as sailing.)

There was a breeze off the water today. Well, to be fair, there was almost always a breeze at sea, and here, anchored off a sandy beach just a little south of Tijuana, was no exception. 

Today, though, the breeze was cool enough to alleviate the warm sun overhead, but not strong enough to blow off Sophie's wide-brimmed hat. Perfect. She sighed in contentment as she reclined back in a deck chair with the satellite phone pressed to her ear. She crossed her legs, pointing one bare foot idly to admire the cherry-red polish on her toenails as the number rang.

"Yes?"

To this rather curt greeting, Sophie simply said, "It's me."

The tone was considerably warmer this time. "Soph? Hey."

Sophie smiled, glad to hear her friend's voice. Tara wasn't always the easiest person to get hold of; such was the life of an international woman of crime. Sophie remembered those days well enough, and did not wish them back again.

"Is this a good time for a chat?" she said. "Last I heard you were stirring up trouble in Zagreb, but that was weeks ago."

Tara made a dismissive sound, apparently meant to summarise the entirety of her experience in Croatia. "I'm in Montreal for now. You remember that place with the -"

"Ooh, the pastries, yes."

"I was going to say 'pastry chef', but that's the one."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Well -"

"Silly question. Both."

She could hear Tara's unabashed smile as she confirmed it. "Of course. So, what's up? Still in Portland?"

"No, actually, that's what I'm calling about. I've um, I've got some news. Pretty big news."

"Jesus, you're not pregnant, are you?"

She laughed at that, and then eyed Nate who was standing at the rail with a beer in hand, by all accounts simply admiring the view. "No, no," she said, "I'm fairly sure I'm not pregnant. Oh dear, looks like Nate just lost his drink over the side. Boats, so unsteady, you know."

Nate turned to fix her with a look of consternation, to which she merely smiled in return.

"You're on a boat?" Tara said.

"What? Oh, yes, that's my news - I've run off with Nate. We've taken to the seas, and may never return. Well, not for at least a month or so, anyway. Apparently, that's how long it will take us to hit... Nate, where are we going, again?"

"I thought you said you wanted to go to Cabo," he replied as he passed by on his way down into the cabin.

"I did say that, I just didn't think you were listening."

"I always listen to you, sweetheart."

He had already disappeared below and so could not appreciate the enormous eye-roll this earned him before Sophie turned her attention back to her phonecall. "Well there you go, Cabo San Lucas, maybe, if Nate doesn't maroon us somewhere on the way," she relayed. "And once we get there, we're going to get married. Want to come to the wedding?"

Tara's laugh was a little strangled. "Married, as in... _married?_ Does Nate know about this?"

"Please. His idea."

"Huh." Tara, of course, recovered as quickly as any grifter worth her weight. "Well, you know I'll be there, wouldn't miss it. So you're really... settling down, aren't you? More every time I talk to you."

"Mm, and that's not the half of it. Now, don't overreact, but... oh, I'll just say it: we're out of the game. Nate and I. Officially. Well, I mean, in practice, who knows. But officially, we're retired." 

"Pregnant would have been more likely."

"But I'd be rather less calm about it."

"You do seem calm. You sound... good. Happy?"

"I am. Don't judge me."

Tara, of course, was judging her. But this was Sophie's oldest and closest friend in the world, other than Nate, and if, when Tara's response came, it was slightly grudging, it was accepting all the same.

"Just... make sure he keeps you that way," she said.

The 'he' in question had just reappeared with a replacement beer for himself, as well as a freshly poured mimosa which he delivered into her hand before wandering off to attend to his fishing line. 

Strangely, Nate's ability to keep her happy was not something she questioned so much these days, but she played along for the sake of it. "Or else?"

"The 'or else' is implied," Tara said, still sounding a little dour for a discussion involving a wedding announcement.

"Want me to put him on? You can threaten him explicitly if you like."

"Ford knows what I'm capable of."

Sophie sipped her drink before observing: "All things considered, you're taking this rather well. Implied violence notwithstanding."

"You really think you can do it? Just be, I don't know, married and boring? On a boat? You know, without murdering him and tossing his body over the side."

"The proof is in the pudding, Tara."

"Come on, you know I hate your weird little Britishisms. What does that even mean?"

"I just mean... I mean, you wouldn't have even asked me that a few years ago."

"It wouldn't have been a thing a few years ago."

"Exactly. People change, Tara."

"Boy, Ford really did a number on you."

"No, see, you've got that entirely the wrong way around. Credit where credit's due, if you don't mind - I'm not the one who's changed. He is."

"If you say so. You know if it had been up to me, I would have just left him in prison to rot."

"I considered it at the time. The problem there is," she paused to sigh heavily, an involuntary smile crossing her lips that Tara would have rolled her eyes to see, "I'm just simply mad about him. Always have been."

"Uh-huh. Tell me something I don't know. If he's the mark, you sure took your time pinning this one down. Just saying."

"Oh, look, you can't rush these things. Patience, Tara. Finesse. Dedication to the craft."

"You and your long cons."

"Uh-huh, and meanwhile, the smash and grab approach to grifting is just, frankly, an insult to the very name of con-artistry."

"Okay, that's not even a word. And the real 'art' of the con? Is the result."

"Ugh, I can't even talk to you when you're like this. Now, Mexico, I'll be the one in white, see you there in, oh who knows, six weeks maybe?"

Tara sighed, and relented. "Sure, just let me know. Say hi to Nate for me. Try not to pitch him overboard - at least not before you seal the deal."

"At the very least I'll keep him around for mercenary reasons - won't be going anywhere without my cabin boy, because honestly I haven't got the faintest idea how to sail this thing. He keeps trying to teach me but -"

"But you'd rather sit on your ass while he does all the work."

"You know me so well. Bye darling, take care."

"Not if I can help it."

All in all, Sophie thought as she ended the call, the conversation had gone better than expected. Of course she didn't need Tara's approval, but it was always nice to have one's life choices validated - however circumspectly - by one's friends.

Leaving her empty champagne flute and the sat-phone by the chair, she rose and stood for a moment on the gently shifting deck. She barely noticed the motion now, though it had been only two weeks since setting off from Santa Barbara. They'd spent over a week just cruising around the Channel Islands; it was a miracle they'd made it even this far. Technically, they did have somewhere to be, but neither of them was in any kind of hurry. 

The past five years had all been a bit of a hurry. It was nice to slow down.

She walked over to where Nate sat on a folding stool, head bent over something fishing-related. They'd been on the boat a fortnight now, and thus far she had successfully avoided any and all involvement in Nate's little hobby - except when he actually managed to catch something. Then she was happy enough to eat it when it appeared, magically prepared and cooked by hands other than her own, on her plate. 

She had agreed readily enough to sail off into the sunset with him, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

Coming up behind him, she leaned over and slid her arms around his neck. "Tara says hello."

"She coming?"

She propped her chin on the top of his head, as he continued to focus on whatever he was doing so intently with the pointy end of the line. "She says she will. I give it about eighty percent chance she'll show."

Nate tossed the line back over the side and propped the rod upright. He picked up his beer bottle for a drink before clearing his throat. "Cabin boy?" he said.

She hid a laugh in his hair. "A very fitting description of your current role."

"And what's that make you?"

"Well, the one giving the orders. Swab the deck, hoist the yard-arm, that sort of thing. I'd make an excellent pirate queen - have I ever told you about the time I did Penzance?"

Nate was on his feet then, turning to catch her by the waist. "No, let's go back to where you're giving out orders on my boat."

"Ours," she reminded him with a pat on the cheek. "What's yours is mine now, darling."

"Oh right, right, so, in other words, love me, love my boat."

"I do love _our_ boat. I don't need to know anything about rigging to love it, either. Mine is a pure, unconditional sort of love."

Nate sighed and leaned back against the rail, though he kept her close. "Anyway, it's not officially 'ours' yet. Not yet. Not till we officially say the thing."

She pressed closer in his arms, hiding her sappy smile against his shoulder. "I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Oh, me too. I mean, speaking of joint assets, I'll finally get my hands on all that loot you've still got stashed in storage lockers in god knows how many countries all over the world. Which, warning you right now, if we get divorced, I'm taking half."

Sophie gasped and pushed away to see the smirk he was not in any way attempting to hide. She pointed a finger at him. "I want a pre-nup."

"No, no, I don't think so. Think I'll keep my options open. I mean, I at least need the option of taking you for everything you're worth. You know. Just in case."

"Nate, no, don't even joke. I mean, you'd - you'd probably want to - to return them or donate them or something. It's too horrible. You're horrible. I stole those pieces fair and square."

"Slight contradiction in terms there, honey. Little bit."

"Oh, please. You think you're hilarious, but just be careful I don't make you walk the plank."

His hands returned to her hips, and slid lower, bringing her up against him again. "I hope that's a euphemism," he said in her ear.

She turned her face to avoid him when he tried for a kiss, not quite in the mood just now. He kissed her temple instead, and his hands moved from her backside to wrap loose around her waist. She leaned back into him instinctively. She never had quite got the hang of staying mad at him.

"I'm sure it's bad luck to talk about divorcing before we've even - you know," she said, looking past his shoulder and over the sparkling water to the pale white stretch of beach in the distance.

He just shrugged. Of course, for Nate Ford, luck was an affront to his worldview. Luck implied conditions which could not be accounted for, and therefore anticipated and controlled.

She thought again of her words to Tara. Here was the pudding - Nate, he had changed, she knew their relationship had changed him. But not that much. 

"Tara thinks you've ruined me," she said. 

"Nah. I mean, if anything - other way around."

"That's what I said."

"I mean, look, I," he hesitated, and for a moment she assumed this would be one of those times when he chose to leave things unspoken. But his eyes never left her face, and with another breath, he continued. "I used to be a miserable old drunk control-freak. And now I'm just... a miserable old drunk control-freak in love. And I will do absolutely anything to make you happy." 

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, just next to the ring he had given her. 

"You mean that?" she said.

"I do."

And here was her proof - she believed him. And suddenly she had as little use for luck as he did. This was both of them, together, making this happen.

"I'll even play cabin boy and pirate queen with you," he added, and bounced his eyebrows suggestively.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you self-sacrificing."

"But see, it's really just a ploy to get my hands on your booty."

"Oh my god. Slapping you in irons for that. Or just slapping you."

"Either works for me."

She considered for a half a moment whether this was working for her, too. 

Yes, it was.

"Right then, cabin boy, I'll deal with you below deck."

She pointed imperiously and then hung back to watch her soon-to-be husband make his way, very eagerly, down into the cabin. Her miserable, impossible, alcoholic control-freak in love. And didn't it just make all the difference.


End file.
